


Tumbled

by stylinourry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Childhood, Friendship, Love, M/M, School, play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinourry/pseuds/stylinourry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, like, Harry has a sorta crush on Louis Tomlinson, the stunning boy with the radiant blue eyes and bright, illuminated face. </p><p>No, this crush is bigger than you could ever imagine. Harry's <i>determined</i> to find out if Louis loves him back.</p><p>And he's definitely determined to get his first real kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay - this is unlike anything I've ever written before! And I was _really super ecstatic_ to write this: my writing style is going to deviate a bit from my own in order to fit the atmosphere more, and in case you don't know this was greatly inspired by a certain book about annoying crushes and innocent adorable school puppy love that I'm HEAD over heels for! Kicking off with a short prologue. Enjoy! :)

**Prologue**

_September 1985_

"Harry! Harry, darling, brekkie's ready!"

"What?!"

"She means BREAKFAST, you turd! Are you like deaf?!" Gemma suddenly burst into my room, wild-eyed and blazingly irritated.

And I was in no mood for arguing with my beloved older sister. Her irises are green-and-grass flecked; they glow under the force of her emotions, and we look _so_ alike that you'd have easily mistaken us for twins - total mirror images of each other.

Wait. We basically _are_ twins. Only Gemma is smarter, knowledgeable, and way more lucid than I am by miles. Fun fact for you: I grate on her nerves like chalk that's scratched too hard across a blackboard. The notable difference was I enjoy it. A freaking lot. 

And well...I'm pretty sure she hates me more than my Irish best mate Niall Horan hates vegemite, and that really says something. I couldn't help it, however.

I was her little pushover of a brother. And I mean, I'm also obliged to poke at her brain until she cracks. I just don't want to hurt her feelings, either. See how good a child I am?

Kidding.

I don't understand the female mind, and I don't think I ever _will_ understand how they can multi-task as if nothing at all's stopping them from completing their Geology homework and gossiping on the landline _at the same time_. Growing up in a household chock-full of estrogen has, you could say, polluted my DNA.

They expect me to do my own laundry, clean the toilet, and eat close-mouthed! Another fun fact, though: I find no problems in obeying them. The average British boy would complain their knackers off until they've escaped their idea of a "cootie domination nightmare".

I guess you could consider me a cootie domination baby or something. 

My mum, on the other hand - dear, sweet Mum - spoiled me senseless. You'd automatically assume I'm spoiled because I'm the youngest sibling. She'd act all soppy and cheesy and embarrassing around me! If you think that's great, wait until you hear the 'adorable' family time story my mum tells my relatives during bedazzled family parties where I pee my trousers every time I'm tickled in the sides! Every. Single. Time.

The HORROR! What made the whole biased story worse was that my cousins would come over to stay each weekend and actually _tickle_ me in bed hard enough until I piss all over myself! Then this terrible yellow stain would soak into my mattress and they'd yell I had erectile dysfunction disorder with a side of urinary incontinence - whatever the hell that means!

This led to me locking myself in the bedroom closet on a daily basis, praying they just go away and not ruin my dignity! I was a mini human punching bag. And my own mother has the gall to say I'm _antisocial_ and that I should _"make beautiful friend bonds"._ Excuse me?

She always forgets who the boy of my social life is. 

"His name's _Niall_ , mum! En-aye-eh-el-el!"

"Oh sorry honey - why don't you invite Nail over for orange juice and raspberry muffins after school today? I'll leave them on the table before I go to work," she chirps happily, whisking cookie batter while I stare at her like she's grown two simultaneous alien heads.

"...it's Niall! When are you going to get it?!"

Ugh.

I stomped my sorry ass out of the house, reaching the marble gates before I heard my mum holler, in a sing-song tone, "And don't forget to tell your sister you're bringing Neil home!"

"IT'S NIALL!" I shout, kicking the gates shut behind me with a converse-clad foot.

I walked to school in miserable mope mode, allowing the awkward scuffle of my feet to bring me towards my dreaded destination.

I didn't exactly loathe class, but I didn't have a luminescent love for it either, no sir.

At the time, the sole reason for my bothering to attend was Niall.

He was my best, _best_ bud, and I couldn't replace him for another. I'm not saying I did! His loud, bubbly drive for life - as if he couldn't give two shits about anything (I'm serious! You should have seen him laugh his eyes out at some poor girl who tripped and landed on a pile of dog feces in the school park a year ago! See? _No shits whatsoever_ ) - pushed me towards a clear, warm day.

Niall Horan was a magnet, oozing charisma and fun and around the clock happiness. Nothing seemed to faze him! Again, he could totally flunk the GCSE's and not bat a damn eyelid! His turquoise-blue eyes drew people in like flies, and his contagious laugh got them sniggering until they eventually faint from forgetting to breathe in between laughs. You could tell him apart from the crowd instantly with his bleach-blonde shock of hair.

And Niall's somewhat tacky love for pop bands (NKOTB, Belle Stars, _Bananarama_ ) got me surefire insured. I never told him they're strange to his face, and I probably never will, but Niall knows how I'm doing and what I'm feeling as soon as he sees me.

I swear the kid's an empathic slash telepathic furry white Care Bear. And personally, a Care Bear's the closest comparison I can make to Niall. Underneath his fearless persona, I discovered he had a genuine heart. Being his best friend gave me boundless promises. And my life is _still_ indebted to him for saving my dumb self from that cocky bully Tom Parker in Year Five (let's say he saw me flipping out over New Kids' Jordan Knight in _16_ magazine - and I was _bored_ alright? That's all it was! You can't deny me a lil' harmless loving).

Little did I know that on September 3rd, 1985, my suckish pasty life was going to change. Forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill! Thank you for the kudos, for giving your time to read it, and stuff :) Hope you enjoy this one!

_September 3, 1985: Year Eleven, Room 303B_

"You're _kidding_ me-"

"Is he the new kid?! Man those trousers..."

My auditory senses perked up immediately at the influx of all the sudden hushed gossip.

I was sitting in my designated homeroom desk, fiddling with a chewed Papermate HB 2 graphite pencil. Niall was alphabetically detached from me when it came to homeroom arrangements, and I was in a little sullen mood because of it.

Who the hell thought it was alright to separate last names according to first-letter rules? Logical my ass.

Oh yeah, and excuse my nerdy babbling. I guess I was too excited for the new Honours English course.

BUT, I must have worn some uniquely dumb face that a heavenly deity loved, because the supposed new kid was making a hesitant beeline towards me.

Towards me, Harry Edward Styles, resident dork and friendship-bracelet obsessed pantywad with the pigeon toe walk and zombie enunciation and inexorably hipster lifestyle that people steered clear of due to flower power having been a fad that passed away like, ten years ago or summat.

Bottom line: I was _so_ not cut out for this. The 'new kid' was. Just. JUST.

He was the most beautiful creature I've ever fucking seen! And I was sure I was going into posthumous hysterics because what the cronkers.

My gaze raked over him on its own accord, appreciating and savouring and catching every symmetrical and parallel curve that wrapped a body sculpted by frickin' Zeus himself. And, uh, I couldn't find the succinct willpower in me to close my mouth.

Where the hell was Niall when you needed him?! I had divine news to deliver!

Long, feathery eyelashes framed the bluest sky blue eyes, a button nose scrunched up in precise confusion at my odd attitude, and those _legs_ clad in cherry red skinnies that were rolled up at the ankles (blinding, red SKINNIES) aimed, a little subdued, for the empty desk beside my own; again I openly balked and blanched and typically made a total idiot out of myself.

The guy looked like he was puked on by Michelangelo.

No, _painted_ on was more appropriate.

And he was...ethereal. I was too afraid to touch him.

What the hell was I going to do?! I had flipped.

Got flipped-turned upside down.

The world I once saw through alabaster glasses had suddenly become, like, rose-tinted, and that boy - the NEW KID - was the centre of my focal point. I wanted to scream. My skin was on fire, burning my senses with nothing that didn't personify him.

If I had initially said anything about lacking a belief in sappy love at first sight, I think I take it all back. ALL of it, right to the last bloody drop.

I closed my hanging jaw and gulped, mortified at the possibility that he thought I was a sissy.

Then, the worst inhumane chiming sound slipped out from between his pink lips.

He laughed.

"What's the matter? You look like you've just seen Bonnie Tyler wearing nothin' but a wife beater and a bra underneath," the beautiful boy said (to _me_ ), his crows' feet springing up and making me - not literally - cry. Hell even his rough saccharine voice killed my soul, as if I died and my soul left my body.

His laugh was the equivalent of wind chimes and bird chirps and a mix of all the most sublime things in life and little did he know that I was in fact dying right before his eyes.

_I'm not worthy to talk to him, or smile at him, or breathe in his face-_

"Hi," I breathed. He looked genuinely amused. Oh my god. 

And this moment became both the bane and birth of my existence for the next 2 years.

"Anyway, is it okay if I sit beside you?" the angel asked, a smirk dancing on his dark pink lips.

This was so egregious for me. I didn't know what to do! My chest was still constricted, threatening to cut off my air supply.

To make things even _worse_ , my classmates were whispering heatedly all around me, and my face burned like a river of lava.

"The new kid's talking to _Hairy_ -"

"Gorg Boy's above the curly weirdo-"

As much as my senses were alight with the angel in front of me, I wanted to shrink back into my shell at the instant sound of scrutiny. I wanted to wrap my gangly arms around my long body while fresh salt tears welled up in my eyes and leaked over its barriers, splattering my ocean-blue textbook - I was such a poof; the bullied pain came back and stabbed my chest.

You could only _imagine_ the extreme shame I felt from crying in front of the beautiful boy I inevitably knew I would fall SO freaking hard for.

Where was Niall? I was a sodding loser. They were right. It was better if I-

"What the fuck is wrong with you all?! I can be friends with whoever I want so stop your pissing on Harry!"

And I choked, my windpipe crackling through my tears at the new kid's defense over me. _Did he really just say he wants to be FRIENDS with me he did he did he did I'm gonna cry-_

He turned to me then, plopping down on the right desk and pulling himself closer with a swift movement of his statuesque arms and legs. His bright teal eyes contained pure concern and I thought I was going to pass out. _He was perfect._

"I'm sorry, Harry - I didn't know my new class would be filled with bastards," he said, voice consoling and scolding, and his tan delicate fingers reached out to brush my arm. I watched the whole thing unfold in a lucid haze, the layer of skin he touched sizzling unabatedly, and he _smiled_ -I was going to act stupid sooner or later! 

I have no idea what the hell happened next, but I assume my mind had disconnected with my motor impulses because a low whisper from between my puffy lips slipped out eleven horrifying words.

"Is your name banana? 'Cause I'd like to tap that potassium-"

I whined in absolute terror.

KILL ME. I'VE DONE THE WORST THING?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter! Been severely busy this week ): though I hope I can write a follow-up as soon as this weekend rolls around!


End file.
